


All I Want For Christmas

by bluebeholder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Destiel Advent Calendar 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Dean and Cas get stuck in a motel on Christmas Eve. Gifts are exchanged, revelations are made, and Christmas miracles happen.





	

The snow howled in through the door as Dean shouldered it open and stumbled in, duffel bags in hand and Cas hot on his heels. “Shut the door, shut the door!” he said, tossing the bags onto the bed.

Cas shoved the door shut, fighting the wind for every inch. “That’s the worst storm I’ve ever seen,” he said, leaning against it when it was finally closed. “And I was around for the Ice Age.”

“Of course it’s on Christmas,” Dean muttered, sinking down onto one of the beds. He went to work getting his snow-covered coat and icy boots off. “Least there was room at the inn. We’re never gonna make it tonight. Might not even make it tomorrow.”

“The roads are that bad?” Cas asked, sliding off his own coat and tossing it over the back of the lone chair. 

“Baby can do a lot, but she can’t handle black ice like that,” Dean said. “You remember that fishtail?”

Cas shuddered. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget.” He paused, and added, “You may want to call Sam. He’ll be worried.”

Dean nodded. He dug his phone out of his pocket and called Sam. “Hey,” he said when Sam picked up.

“Where are you?” Sam burst out the second they connected. “You were supposed to be home hours ago—”

“Check the weather,” Dean said dryly. “We hit the big snowstorm north of Grand Island. Can’t see for shit out there. Can’t drive Baby without sliding all over the damn road either.”

Sam paused for a moment and Dean could only assume he was looking at the weather on his laptop. “…wow,” he said. “That’s ugly. You guys find a place to stay?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Some little place, the—”

“Midway Motel,” Cas supplied. 

“—Midway Motel,” Dean repeated. He mouthed “thank you” to Cas, who smiled as he headed for the bathroom. “It’s got a bed, so we can’t complain.”

Sam chuckled. “Good,” he said. “So…how about our Christmas plans?”

Dean winced. Their hunt wasn’t supposed to go so long or get so complicated. It was just him and Cas, in and out. But as usual, things went downhill, and now here they were in a motel on Christmas Eve. “Drink some eggnog, watch a corny Christmas movie,” he replied. “Sleep in tomorrow. I’m gonna try the drive tomorrow, if the snow’s cleared up. It’s Nebraska, they’re gonna plow the roads.”

“Just be safe, okay, Dean?” Sam said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s a lost cause,” Dean said brusquely, but then sighed and said in a softer tone, “Sorry I can’t make it home, Sammy.”

Sam sounded like he was smiling. “Hey, just come back safe, that’s all I ask,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas,” Dean said, and hung up. 

The door clicked open and Cas stepped out, patting his hands dry on his pants. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair was flattened a bit, as if he’d tried to fix the mess the wind had left him. “Everything’s all right?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, tossing his phone on top of a duffel bag and laying back on the bed. “Sam’s more worried about us trying to drive home tomorrow than he is about us missing Christmas.”

“That’s reasonable,” Cas said. He picked Dean’s coat off the bed and draped it over the seat of the chair, then sat down next to Dean. His hip was just barely touching Dean’s and Dean tried not to fixate too much on the light pressure. It was just an accident of a tiny motel room, that’s all. 

Dean grumbled. “I wish he’d be a little less reasonable about stuff like this.”

“It’s impossible for you to ever be satisfied, isn’t it?” Cas asked, shaking his head in fond exasperation. 

“You know it,” Dean returned. He laced his fingers behind his head, cracking the tension out of his neck. “At least we’re safe and Baby is fine. I’m gonna have a hell of a time scraping her windows off tomorrow morning, though.”

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I thought I saw a convenience store across the street,” he said. “I could go buy a second scraper and help you.”

Dean squinted at the angel. “Dude, it’ll be Christmas,” he said. 

“Many businesses stay open on holidays to take advantage of secular customers,” Cas pointed out.

“You seriously think that’ll hold up in Nebraska?”

Cas gave him a look with which Dean was already pretty familiar. “Is Nebraska particularly religious?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “They don’t call it the Bible Belt for nothing.”

There was quiet for a moment, then Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket again. He didn’t like the awkward silence and the howling of wind. Besides, it was Christmas. A little bit of Googling brought up a nice Christmas music playlist on Pandora. Dean set it to a low volume and set the phone somewhere above his head. A man started crooning about chestnuts, roasting on an open fire. Somehow, just that little bit made the room feel a little less like a motel room they’d run into to hide from the cold and a little more like somewhere to spend a holiday. “There. Now we’ve got ambiance,” he said, wiggling his fingers around to show what he meant. 

Cas smiled down at him. “I like this,” he said. “There’s something…magical about holidays.”

“Always is,” Dean said. He suddenly remembered something that reminded him that Christmas wouldn’t be entirely ruined, for Cas at least. “Hang on just a second.”

He jumped up from the bed and crossed to the other side of the room in two steps. Dean could practically feel Cas watching him as he dug through his duffel bag. Down near the bottom of the bag, there was a small package wrapped in newspaper. It was something Dean had picked up a while ago and virtually forgotten about, until he found it and realized that he really wanted to give it to Cas. He turned around and held out the package to Cas.

“Dean, what…” Cas held out his hands, a puzzled expression on his face, and Dean set the present down into his open hands.

“It’s a Christmas present, Cas,” Dean said. “Even if we’re not at home, you shouldn’t miss out on the good part of the holiday.”

Cas shook his head, but he was smiling. “Thank you,” he said, “though I think it’s enough to spend the season with you.”

Dean tried really hard not to blush. He did. He failed, and sat back down next to Cas, resigned to being a complete failure at hiding anything ever. He watched as Cas picked the tape apart, careful not to rip the paper. “It’s just newspaper,” Dean said. 

“I know,” Cas said, pausing in his work to glance at Dean, “but it feels odd to just tear it off.”

“You do you, Cas,” Dean said with a theatrical sigh. Bold in the moment, with some Christmas song about love playing in the background, he threw his arm over Cas’s shoulders. Cas froze, seeming mildly shocked. But Dean didn’t move his arm, and Cas didn’t object, and he went back to unwrapping the present. Dean noticed that he wasn’t the only one in the room turning red anymore. He wasn’t sure, really, where this was all going, but he kind of liked it.

Finally, Cas finished unpicking the newspaper. Inside the wrapping was a smallish journal. It had a leather cover and was embossed with bluebirds, dyed in the correct color. “Dean?” Cas asked, studying the book, turning it over in his hands and feeling the pages.

“I picked it up in Nevada,” Dean said. “I thought since you started hunting with us, you might want your own journal to write in…” 

Still holding the journal, Cas looked at Dean. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Dean smiled. “No problem,” he said. “It just, uh. It made me think of you.”

“In what way?” Cas asked.

Well. This wasn’t supposed to be a conversation that happened. But here it was, and his arm was still around Cas’s shoulders, and someone was singing “All I Want For Christmas Is You” in the background, so Dean forged forward. “Your eyes are the same color as the bluebirds,” he said. Now that was a good line. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester wasn’t capable of being romantic. 

He was pretty sure his voice was shaking with nerves, so he wasn’t sure how it actually sounded.

Cas just kept gazing at him. They were close enough that Dean could see just how blue the angel’s eyes really were. “I wish I had something to give you,” Cas said after a moment. 

“You don’t need to give me anything,” Dean said. “It’s enough actually getting to be near you.”

“Dean,” Cas said helplessly. He shook his head, as if he was going to say something else, but instead he just rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean thought his damn heart was gonna stop. He closed his eyes and just let the moment happen, because he wasn’t going to screw this up now. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas repeated after a while. “This means…more than I can explain.”

Dean pulled Cas a little closer to him. “Give it a shot,” Dean said. 

Cas shifted. After a moment, he said, “I don’t…I don’t always feel like I’m wanted, you know that, we’ve talked about it before…but this…it’s physical proof that you do. Well. You do want me.”

“I always want you around,” Dean said. “Physical proof or not.”

It wasn’t really comfortable, saying that out loud, because it came way too close to things that Dean normally didn’t want to say out loud. He was pretty content to keep them quiet because he didn’t like chick flick moments. Though, actually, Sam was right, Dean did like chick flick moments when they were appropriate, and this was appropriate. Some guy was singing about how when he was with someone else it felt like Christmas. And it did. Even if they weren’t home, even if they weren’t in the Bunker, even if they were just in a crappy motel off the side of middle-of-nowhere Nebraska, it did feel like Christmas. Cas was there next to Dean, right where he should be, and that was all Dean really wanted. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas said suddenly, and he moved and suddenly Dean had a lapful of angel whose lips were on Dean’s and Dean kind of forgot how to breathe. Cas tasted like cheap gas station coffee and the Red Hots he’d been eating all day and Dean couldn’t figure out how suddenly Red Hots were the most appealing candy in the universe when he usually hated them. Cas’s hands were in his hair and Dean’s arms were both around Cas and it was perfect. 

After a while, Cas leaned back and stared at Dean. He looked a little like he’d been hit by a truck. That was okay, Dean felt like he’d been hit by the same truck. At this point, he didn’t know what to say, really. There was a lot they had to talk about—a lot of things that needed to get cleared up if they were going to do this—but they could wait. It was late, and Dean was tired, and besides, it was Christmas. All those things would still be there tomorrow.

Dean’s phone was playing “Joy To The World” and it seemed perfectly right. “Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean said.


End file.
